


misplacing home

by paigemccullers



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, the tardis is just trying her best man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16764391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paigemccullers/pseuds/paigemccullers
Summary: Amazing really, how the Doctor has saved their lives so many times from so many different types of evil and here Yaz is, saving the Doctor from some severely overdone bread.





	1. Chapter 1

**1**

Yaz isn’t going to pretend that she knows how the TARDIS works, there’s certain things in life you’re just not supposed to get your head around and a dimensionally engineered time spaceship is almost definitely one of them. In fact, Yaz only finds out the TARDIS is completely sentient when, she walks in on the Doctor one day, hands on hips, glaring at the center console as the machine whirs back at her in a way Yaz can only really describe as “sarcasm with middle finger energy.”  
  
After that Yaz kind of treats the TARDIS like one of them. She treads softly down the halls, traces her fingertips over the ridges and dips of the pillars, she wonders if it cancels out the hammering and welding and general destruction the Doctor does within the center console almost daily.

Not that the TARDIS minds the Doctor’s heavy-handed nature, of course. Yaz usually finds them bickering like an old married couple and she wonders if this is the longest relationship the Doctor’s ever had and because of that, she wants to know more.  
  
She lets the TARDIS show her around, it’s like being given a tour of a new house except there’s no estate agent, only a beckoning hum and warm lights flickering on in the distance. It doesn’t take her long to learn that the TARDIS does actually move the rooms around. The Doctor had mentioned something about it in passing one day but the Doctor says a lot of things and while Yaz tries desperately to soak it all up, sometimes she doesn’t quite manage to.   
  
The TARDIS shows her how high she can travel; the floors seem to go on forever. There are libraries, large rooms filled with clothes, an actual bowling alley - Yaz doesn’t question it. Yaz _loves_ adventures with the Doctor but she thinks she loves the adventures that the TARDIS takes her on just as much.  
  
She finds a room one night - or well, the TARDIS leads her there, it feels a little different to the rest, a little off. She opens the door but doesn’t take a full step forward.

The walls are lined with shelves and shelves of books, fictional by the look of things. There’s an actual fireplace crackling away merrily and in front of that, a big purple sofa - it looks soft and cozy, the kind of sofa that envelops you when you collapse into it. There are fluffy blankets and large pillows draped and thrown around haphazardly. The most amazing part is the ceiling, it’s probably some kind of alien technology but it looks like glass; all Yaz can see when she looks upward are the stars, millions and millions of them, like she’s stood on a pavement in Sheffield looking up at the night sky.  
  
The room feels homely and private. It feels like someone’s escape and she thinks she knows whose.   
  
“Should I be here?” Yaz flattens her hand out against the TARDIS’ wall, pressing hard, needing an answer. When she doesn’t get one, not a hum or an echo of any kind, she reaches out and pulls the door closed. Yaz has always been inquisitive, maybe even a little nosy but she’s _not_ intrusive and she knows a secret when she sees one.   
  
She returns to the console room feeling a little guilty but there’s something in the rational part of her brain telling her that the TARDIS took her to that room for a reason. She almost runs Ryan down as they pass in the hallway, too caught up in her own head to watch where she’s going.  
  
“Woah, where’s the fire?” Ryan dodges to her right while keeping a steadying hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Sorry, I should’ve been watching where I was going.” Yaz apologizes shaking her head, Ryan just stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets and shrugs.  
  
“Nah don’t worry ‘bout it. You alright?” He’s sweet and Yaz loves him for it, he never pushes her too much but always makes sure he’s there to help when she needs it. She smiles and nudges him a little with her elbow before taking a few steps backwards.  
  
“Always. I’m going to say goodnight to the Doctor then head off to bed. See you in the morning?”  
  
“Got nowhere else to be.” He gives her a mock salute, turns on his heel and heads off in the opposite direction.  
  
Yaz finds the Doctor clad in what could only be described as engineer chic. Probably not chic at all actually, just massive dungarees, plain black boots and a welders mask but the Doctor somehow manages to pull it off. The mask is pulled atop of her head, blonde hair jutting out at all angles and there’s oil, quite literally, everywhere. Yaz can’t help but think the long black smudge across the Doctor’s cheek makes her look adorable - or, more so than usual she supposes.  
  
“You know what you’re doing or are you just making a mess?” Yaz quips, finding a smile already on her lips. The Doctor whips around to face Yaz with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“I always know what I’m doing, Yaz! Or most the time anyway. Doesn’t mean there won’t be a mess though, how do you expect me to keep clean when I’m fixing the world’s worst oil leak?!” The Doctor waves a wrench around in the general direction of the center console.   
  
“Your bad driving cause that, eh?” Yaz can’t help the grin on her face. She loves how the Doctor gets when she messes with her. The TARDIS whirs loudly in agreement. The Doctor’s jaw drops and her hands go to her hips.   
  
“Oi! Yaz! You’re supposed to be on _my_ side! First the TARDIS has a go, then Ryan and Graham! Can’t have you turning on me too. I know how to drive, just sometimes forget about the parking break or that she’s got gears...” The Doctor trails off, frowning up toward the center of the TARDIS.   
  
Yaz watches the Doctor’s nose scrunch up in that cute way it does when she’s deep in thought and finds herself chuckling softly. How can this one person be so ridiculous but so endearing all at once?  
  
“I’m only playin’, Doctor. Promise.” The Doctor smiles so widely then, Yaz’s chest suddenly feels comfortably warm.  
  
“I knew it! I knew you’d never double cross me. Yasmin Khan, definitely my favourite.” Yaz feels herself blushing. She tucks her hands into her jeans pockets in an attempt to stop herself from fidgeting. “So where’d you end up today then?”   
  
The Doctor’s voice pulls her out of her stupor; Yaz opens her mouth then promptly shuts it again. She’d almost forgotten about her night exploring. She’s grateful that the Doctor’s attention is back on the oil leak so she can’t see the way Yaz falters, looking for an answer.  
  
“I found a bowling alley?” Yaz shrugs to herself, sure she found the bowling alley a day or two ago but the Doctor didn’t know that. Immediately after the Doctor flips her welding mask down she flips it straight back up and fixes Yaz with a confused stare.  
  
“We’ve got a bowling alley? Huh. Quite like bowling but I’ve got to be in the mood for it really. That’s fun. Bowling, eh?” She flips her welding mask back over her face. “Can’t remember the last time I went bowling. Did you have a go?”   
  
“Nah, just went for a wander. Thought I’d head off to bed now.” Yaz jabs a thumb over her shoulder even though the Doctor isn’t looking in her direction.   
  
She knows she’s being vague about it, too vague in fact. She’s never been a good liar, honestly she’s never had need to be. That was all her sister, partying, staying out late, making out with boys that she shouldn’t be making out with. Yaz never did any of that, it wasn’t really her thing. She just wanted to study, graduate and join the police, she never had time for boys or girls or parties no matter how fun they sounded.

And she knows that technically she’s not lying to the Doctor, she’s just omitting the truth but Yaz thinks that’s just as bad; especially if it’s to someone she cares about. She mostly hopes the Doctor doesn’t catch on.  
  
She looks up to find the Doctor still crouched over the hole in the floor but turned slightly with a hand holding her mask halfway between up and down. She meets the Doctor’s eyes and wonders how long she’s been staring at her. Yaz swallows thickly and smiles one of those half smiles that convinces no one of anything.  
  
“So I’ll see you in the morning yeah? Goodnight, Doctor.” Yaz offers a half wave then points weakly at the centre console. “Don’t stay up too late.” It’s a bit of banter. Everyone knows the Doctor sleeps like, twice in never. Yaz sees the Doctor’s lips quirk upward into some kind of smile.  
  
“Who’s the comedian now, eh?” The Doctor’s eyes are still filled with something Yaz can’t quite place, curiosity maybe but Yaz doesn’t hang around to find out whether she’ll be caught in a lie or not. She backs off down the hallway and finds her feet moving just a slight bit faster than usual.

  
  
**2**

  
  
Burning. She can smell it before she’s even awake, which honestly is pure talent. Yaz’s eyes snap open and she bolts upright in her bed, everything’s spinning but that’s probably because she’s mostly still asleep. No one can be up and rummaging about beneath their bed for slippers approximately two seconds after waking up. Or they shouldn’t be anyway.  
  
But here she is and something is _definitely_ on fire. She has no idea what time it is - she hasn’t really known since they started traveling with the Doctor because time doesn’t _exist_. All she knows is that she can’t possibly have had a full nights sleep yet. She’s still knackered from all the running they did the day previous.  
  
Who knew aliens that looked almost exactly like Jigglypuff Pokémon could be so angry and run so fast?  
  
It can’t be Graham setting the microwave on fire again, it’s hard enough to do it once never mind twice and he’s almost definitely still asleep. Once that man’s out, he’s _out_. Maybe it’s the TARDIS? Wouldn’t the Doctor have woken them if there were some kind of emergency?   
  
She half jogs across her room and places a flat palm against the TARDIS wall. Still humming, she can feel the steady vibrations of the engine beneath her skin.   
  
But something’s still burning. It smells hot and tacky like someone’s left a piece of plastic up against a hot pipe.   
  
Yaz flings her door open ready to start sprinting down the corridor toward the console room when - wait. Directly across from her is......the kitchen? When did that get there? Yaz’s room was definitely not opposite the kitchen when she last checked.

The door to the kitchen is open and Yaz wishes, she so wishes that she could say that she’s surprised to see the Doctor’s legs dangling over the counter top - the rest of her body looks to be inside the sink. There are tools to the Doctor’s side, resting on top of the surface.   
  
Oh yeah, nothing like doing a bit of plumbing in the middle of the night. Top-notch idea. Yaz is going to start calling her the Plumber from now on, that’s how annoyed she is.   
  
She still doesn’t know what’s on fire though.  
  
“Doctor! What are you doing?” Yaz marches into the room quickly; she scans the area for any sign of flames or smoke but only sees a slightly smoldering toaster. She hurries over and presses the button to pop the toast. What comes out is definitely not edible so she throws it onto the side and unplugs the blasted machine.  
  
“Hiya, Yaz! Morning already? Must of been down those pipes longer than I thought - Hey! What are you doing with my toast?!” The Doctor untangles herself from the sink pit she’d been wriggling around in and darts over to grab the blackened bread out of Yaz’s hand before it can make it to the bin.  
  
Yaz steals it back before the Doctor can take a bite.  
  
“That - “ Yaz holds the toast up and back out of the Doctor’s reach as the other woman makes an attempt to snatch it. “Is not toast it is a _fossil fuel._ Look at it! If you eat that you’ll _die_.” The Doctor rolls her eyes.  
  
“Bit dramatic, Yaz.” Yaz wiggles a finger around in front of the Doctor’s face. She doesn’t want to hear it, not after the Doctor tried to burn them all to hell with a toaster. Amazing really, how the Doctor has saved their lives so many times from so many different types of evil and here Yaz is, saving the Doctor from some severely overdone bread.   
  
“I can’t believe this is what woke me up.” She mutters, dropping the toast into the bin with only quiet annoyed mumbles from the Doctor.   
  
“It woke you up?” The Doctor asks, her brow furrowed quizzically. Yaz huffs under her breath and turns around to wash her hands in the sink the Doctor had been occupying moments ago.   
  
“The smell of things on fire generally stirs me.” She answers sarcastically but can’t help the genuine smile on her face. The Doctor is _ridiculous_ , even in the middle of the night. She turns around and leans back against the counter top. She watches the Doctor working something out in her head. Her eyes fixed on the ground and the little wrinkle between her eyebrows makes her look so innocently confused. Yaz wants to reach out; touch her face, smooth out the wrinkles with her thumb. Instead she swallows hard and grips the countertop tighter.  
  
“The kitchen isn’t anywhere _near_ your room? How did you -“ The Doctor peers over her shoulder and falters, her view carries on out past the corridor and through Yaz’s open bedroom door. “Your room isn’t usually there.” The Doctor pauses, thumb jutting over her shoulder. “Is it?”  
  
Yaz shrugs, watching the Doctor scratch the back of her head the way she does when things haven’t quite clicked in her massive, amazing brain.   
  
“Presume the TARDIS moved me so I could save the toaster before it was too late.” Yaz muses. Since she threw away the Doctor’s poor excuse of a meal she decides to start rifling through the drawers and cupboards. Her eyes land on a cereal box. She reaches up onto her tiptoes to grab it then goes to the fridge to find some milk.

She doesn’t feel the Doctor’s gaze on her back, nor does she see the way the Doctor glares at the walls of the TARDIS in a way that’s both a question and a telling off.  
  
“Okay so, let’s try something that won’t catch on fire or wake me up in the middle of the night, yeah?” Yaz gestures down at the bowl of cereal on their little, white communal table. The Doctors gaze softens and a gentle smile tugs her lips upward. Yaz feels herself smiling wider.  
  
“I love cereal.”  
  
“I know, you told me.”  
  
“You remembered that I love cereal?! You’re the best Yaz, did you know? I would give you points but honestly I can’t remember which system I’m using anymore so you can have a gold star too because you’re so smart.” The Doctor grabs the bowl, the spoon that Yaz had set beside it and hops up onto the counter top, spilling a little milk out of the bowl on her way up.  
  
Yaz knows she’s blushing, her face feels as hot as the toaster smelled just minutes ago and her hands start twitching with a need to fidget nervously so she twists her fingers upwards into her pajama top and forms fists around the fabric between her fingers. It amazes her how the Doctor hasn’t noticed yet, the way Yaz blushes or stumbles over her words when the Doctor pays her even the slightest of compliments. She’s either completely oblivious or just ignoring it and Yaz knows the Doctor, she’s too kind, too wonderful to just not acknowledge it.   
  
She doesn’t even know what “it” _is_.   
  
Yaz busies herself by finding a paper towel to clean up the little puddle of milk on the countertop. She rolls her eyes playfully at the Doctor and hopes her face isn’t as red as she thinks it is. The Doctor gives her a smile with cheeks full of cereal and Yaz thinks that she could melt if she thought about it hard enough. So she doesn’t.   
  
“You think I can safely go to bed now?” Yaz asks as she leans against the counter and folds her arms. The Doctor shrugs in that cheerful way she does and finishes a mouthful.  
  
“Probably not, you know me.”  
  
“What were you even doing in that sink?” The Doctor just smiles around her spoon.  
  
“Tinkering.” She mumbles, mouth still full of cereal. Yaz laughs once in disbelief and shakes her head.  
  
“I need to teach you how to sleep. Honestly beds are amazing, you should try one sometime.” Yaz decides she’s not going to bed any time soon. She’s awake now and a little afraid the Doctor’s going to plug the toaster back in the moment she leaves the room so she fills the kettle and flicks it on to heat. The Doctor watches her movements happily, her smile widening when she realizes that Yaz isn’t going anywhere.  
  
“People have been trying to get me into bed for _years_.” Yaz hears the way the Doctor says it, genuinely innocent, like the Doctor’s asking her about the weather or where the nearest petrol station is but it doesn’t stop Yaz from coughing on absolutely nothing. Air, she’s choking on air. The Doctor frowns and drops her spoon into her bowl to pat Yaz’s back. “You alright, Yaz?”  
  
Yaz is definitely not alright but she nods and pats her chest like she is. Her eyes eventually stop watering.  
  
“Yeah, fine thanks. Tea?” Yaz asks, taking a mug down from the cupboard before glancing over her shoulder. The Doctor is still sitting on top of the counter, feet idly swinging side to side. Yaz pretends not to think about how attractive she is. The Doctor’s eyes brighten at the question and she’s nodding enthusiastically.  
  
“Please! You make the best tea, I think Graham puts the milk in first and listen, I don’t discriminate but that just doesn’t sit right with me, Yaz, it feels _wrong_.” Yaz leans back while the kettle boils and watches the Doctor go on and on, the saying about listening to someone recite the dictionary? Yeah, she’d let the Doctor. “I’m not kidding, Yaz, he needs an intervention.”  
  
The Doctor looks at her, proper serious expression on her face and Yaz wishes she were sleeping right now; she wishes the TARDIS had never bothered to wake her up. Anything’s better than passionate conversations about tea and the weird fluttering sensation swirling around beneath her chest that she only seems to feel when she’s around the Doctor.


	2. Chapter 2

**3**

  
  
When Yaz was younger her mother was convinced there was something not quite right with Yaz's body. Whenever she got her period it was different to what her mother had described as “normal.” Her skin would turn a horrible sickly white and she’d nearly always feel sweaty. Yaz used to find herself in so much pain that she’d end up collapsing onto the floor or throwing up.  
  
The doctors checked for endometriosis but everything appeared to be clear and Yaz never knew whether to feel pleased about that or upset. What was wrong with her? Why did she have to thrash around in agony while all her sister felt was a little discomfort? She remembers the doctor looking at her with pitiful eyes, mumbling something about “luck of the draw.”

Her mother did a _lot_ of arguing, always been good at arguing, her mum and somehow, Yaz ended up with a few prescribed medicines. That seemed to be that.  
  
With all the running about they’ve been doing, Yaz forgets about it until she wakes one day, probably early morning, to a dull, throbbing ache pulsing around her lower back.  
  
She panics for the first few minutes, not daring to move in case it triggers the whole thing. How could she forget about this? Yaz knows there are reminders set to pop up onto her phone when it’s time to start taking her tablets but they’ve been so busy lately, you know, saving the universe and all, that she hasn’t even bothered to charge it.  
  
Yaz eases herself up and swings her legs off the side of the bed, so far so good. She wiggles her feet into the slippers standing by the bedside and shuffles slowly over to the wardrobe.  
  
She forgoes the jeans and settles on a pair of pyjama shorts and a massive jumper. Her legs prickle against the cold but she’s honestly willing to deal with it, there’s no way she’s going to try and squeeze herself into a pair of unforgiving trousers. Hopefully they don’t do a lot of running today.  
  
She walks down to breakfast knowing that she probably looks a right tool; favoring one wall just in case she needs to steady herself or crouch down to hug her knees to her chest.  
  
Periods? Honestly _amazing_.  
  
She tucks herself around the corner of the kitchen door silently praying that it’s empty. And just her luck, it’s not.

The Doctor and Graham look like they’ve been occupying the room for a little while now. An empty bowl sits on the little table in front of Graham and he looks to be half reading a newspaper that he'd gotten from god knows where, god knows when. Typical grandad. The Doctor is perched in her usual place, atop the kitchen counter. She’s chewing on what looks to be the tail end of a croissant? Who knows where she got that from. Probably stopped off in France while they were all asleep.  
  
“Yaz! Morning! I got pastries. Dropped in on an old friend of mine in Paris while you were all asleep.” Well. Hit the nail on the head with that one.  
  
Yaz greets them both, she smiles at the Doctor for a second longer, enjoying the way the other woman tries to grin proudly around a mouthful of pastry. Yaz moves over to join Graham at the table and just as she’s about to sit, she feels it. The telltale pinpricks below her ribs, the steady pull of a cramp between her hips. She hums lowly, exhaling deeply through her nose more in annoyance than pain really.

It’s typical that this has to happen now. She’s never gone a period without her mum there to run her fingers through Yaz's hair and tell her that it’s going to feel better soon. It scares her a little.  
  
“Yaz what’s wrong?” She feels the Doctor by her side in an instant, voice laced with concern, a frown worrying her lips.  
  
“Don’t worry, Doctor.” Yaz manages to lower herself into the chair opposite Graham with a sigh of relief as the wave of pain subsides. “Just that time, y’know?”   
  
Graham offers her a supportive smile and closes his newspaper, setting it on the table besides him.  
  
“Get bad ones, do ya?” Yaz feels a little surprised at the question. She never pegged Graham as the kind to jump head first into conversations about intimate things. Yaz shrugs a little then hugs her forearms against her stomach.  
  
“Since they started. Forgot to take my tablets so reckon I’ll be useless for a couple days.”   
  
“Yaz? Useless? I don’t think so, you could never be useless. Always thinking, you, definitely got an edge on the boys anyway. Sorry, Graham.” Graham’s jaw hangs slack but he doesn’t look offended, just amused. “Bad ones of what anyway? What’s he talking about?”

Yaz chuckles softly at the way the Doctor’s face looks when she doesn’t understand what’s going on. Eyebrows pulled together, hard gaze set on Yaz inspecting her from head to toe, fingers itching to move forward to make sure she’s still intact.  
  
“Periods, Doctor. You have to know what they are.” The Doctor’s expression doesn’t change, it’s like she’s scanning the library in her brain for any kind of reference that could help. “You know? Occurs in the uterus? Please don’t make me get graphic. It’s _breakfast_ time.” Yaz pleads, ready for a conversation change any time now.  
  
“Oh! Uterus! Yes! Sorry, Yaz, a bit slow there for a sec. Didn’t know they were that painful though. How do you stop the pain? There’s a way to stop it, right?” The Doctor slides into the chair between Yaz and Graham, setting her hands on the table. Yaz watches the Doctor’s fingers play with the hem of her sleeve, there’s a loose thread and the Doctor keeps worrying it between her fingertips. She wonders if the Doctor fidgets when she gets nervous too.   
  
“There’s ways to help with the pain. My mum usually piles hot water bottles all over me and fills me up with hot chocolate and sweet tea but it doesn’t work all the way. Like Graham said, bad ones.” Yaz offers a flat smile and a shrug.

The Doctor looks pained, like, for once there’s actually _nothing_ she can do. There’s little to no way she can help and the Doctor doesn’t know how to process that. All the Doctor does is help and it kind of looks like someone’s just shut the door in her face for offering.   
  
“Like I said, don’t worry. I could do with finding some hot water bottles before it properly kicks off though.” Yaz’s face turns upward in a grimace as she feels another annoying twinge pull at her stomach. The Doctor leaps up almost knocking the table over. Graham flattens his hands against the top before it can fully flip and shoots the Doctor a chastising look, the way a dad would at a child for throwing the ball a little too close to the windows.  
  
“On it!” She’s gone from the room in about a second and Yaz can’t help but giggle at the nonplussed look on Graham’s face.  
  
“She’s a right one she is, bet she doesn’t even know what a hot water bottle looks like.” Graham shakes his head as he stands. “I better go help, give us a shout if you need anything, Yaz.”   
  
Yaz can’t help but smile as he squeezes her shoulder. Out of all the men to be trapped in a police box with, she’s glad it’s the two that she’s got.   
  
Graham turns down the hallway in the complete opposite direction to the Doctor but Yaz never bothers to yell after him. The TARDIS has a funny way of making sure they’re all where they need to be, when they need to be there. She feels the soft hum of the TARDIS’ vibrations beneath her slipper clad feet, warm and comforting and strangely reassuring in a way Yaz can’t really place.  
  
Then there’s an almighty stabbing feeling between her hips and she can’t help but buckle forward in pain. A yelp finds its way from her lips and there’s a horrible hot sensation sweeping through her body and she doesn’t even realize that Ryan is there, hand on her back, calling her name over and over. Yaz feels embarrassed and annoyed and everything else that she’s feeling right now and she just wants to cry.   
  
“Yaz, you gotta get back to bed man, there’s no point making yourself feel worse by pretending to be alright.” Ryan shakes her a little and Yaz nods back. “Graham gave me a heads up in the hallway, I can carry you?”  
  
“Don’t be daft.” Yaz answers almost immediately, a look of absolute horror crossing her face. She sees Ryan’s lips tug upward into a smile and realizes he got exactly what he wanted. A rise out of her. He’s so annoying but _so_ good.  
  
He wraps an arm around her shoulders on the walk back to her room. She’s feeling a little sweaty and the dull ache in her stomach is slowly becoming more persistent. She can’t wait for the next few days to be over already.   
  
The walk is surprisingly short, Ryan doesn’t seem to notice but Yaz reckons the TARDIS has shuffled her room closer so she doesn’t have to walk as far. She makes a mental note to thank the TARDIS later.  
  
“Thanks, Ryan, sorry for being a bother.” Yaz turns toward her bed and grabs for the pajamas strewn across her duvet.  
  
“No worries, here to help when ya need me. Right?” Yaz quickly shoots him a small smile over her shoulder.  
  
“Course.” She hears the door click behind her and feels her shoulders slump forward. She didn’t even realize she’d been holding her breath.  
  
Yaz is back in her pajamas and under the duvet, cuddling a pillow when she works out that she just wants her mum. She knows its childlike and a bit silly but it’s all that she’s known. She’d even settle for her sister at this rate, just someone that knows, someone that can cuddle up to her and smooth her hair out of her face, tell her nice things to concentrate on.  
  
Two hours in and she’s fully wishing she were dead. She feels hot and sticky with the duvet pulled around her but when she kicks it off she’s shivering within seconds. Her stomach feels like it’s eating itself, slowly grating away, nails against a chalkboard.

She’s fully aware that she could ask the Doctor to take her home, find her mum and deliver Yaz directly to her door but she supposes she’s got to grow up at some point. She’s managed to take care of herself so far, why not now?  
  
Three hours in and she’s ready to throw up. She scrambles from the bed, completely ignoring the pain ripping through her and flings open the bathroom door at the other end of her room. Yaz skids to the floor and hangs her head over the toilet bowl. She can’t remember the last time it was this bad. Everything hurts and everything’s blurry and all she wants is to feel _normal_ again.   
  
She’s about to throw up when she feels cool fingers against her forehead. Gentle movements backward across her scalp pulling Yaz’s hair out of her face and away from her sticky skin. Yaz can’t help but lean into the touch.  
  
The Doctor rubs comforting circles across the small of Yaz’s back while Yaz empties what little she had in her stomach into the toilet. Yaz wishes the Doctor didn’t have to see her like this but she’s also ridiculously thankful that she’s here. It’s comforting.  
  
Once she’s done, Yaz slumps backwards into the Doctor’s arms, the pains in her stomach have lightened a little but she still feels like hell.  
  
“Oh, Yaz. I’m so sorry this is happening to you.” The Doctor looks down at her with a sad frown and soft eyes. “I found you some hot water bottles.” She says like it’s a really bad consolation prize. Yaz even manages half a smile.   
  
“I’m just goin’ to brush my teeth.” Yaz mumbles, shaking a little as she pushes herself to her feet. The Doctor trails after her like a lost puppy, Yaz sees her reach out to touch her again, fingers worrying against Yaz’s back and hip. Yaz closes her eyes and tries not to think about how her heart rate quickens under her touch.  
  
Yaz finds the hot water bottles full and abandoned on top of her bed. The Doctor _really_ wasn’t messing about when she said she was on it. They’re all different colours and Yaz can just imagine the Doctor picking them all out, a kid on Christmas type of look on her face. She presses a blue one across her stomach and lets out a groan of pleasure. Hot water bottles were most _definitely_ created by gods.   
  
“Better?” The Doctor asks. She looks awfully small, Yaz thinks. Hands clasped together in front of her, rocking back and forth on her heels, cheeks a soft rosy colour. Yaz watches the Doctor worry her bottom lip between her teeth; she tries her best not to stare. Yaz feels too sick to think about it properly.  
  
“Yes. Thank you, Doctor. Kind of feels a little more like home now.” Yaz smiles up at the other woman. There’s a flash of something then, a look of sadness crossing the Doctor’s features. If Yaz had blinked she would have missed it.  
  
“Would you like to go home? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, Yaz, never.” Yaz can tell the Doctor doesn’t want her to leave and that fills her heart full, right to the brim.   
  
“No. I’ve got you. You’ll look after me, won’t you Doctor?” Yaz asks, teasing the Doctor just a little. It’s worth it, the way the Doctor’s eyes light up and her lips part into an open grin, Yaz wishes she could make the Doctor happy like this all the time.   
  
“ _Absolutely_!” She’s kicking off her boots and shrugging out of her coat. “I’m a great nurse, at least I was told so back in the day. Definitely performed an amputation at some point.”  
  
“If you could amputate me from the chest down that would be great.” Yaz mumbles sarcastically as she crawls her way beneath the sea of hot water bottles. She piles two between her hips and moves to shove one beneath her lower back when she catches the Doctor looking at her in sheer horror.  
  
“I was kidding, Doctor.” The Doctor exhales and waves her hands around dismissively.  
  
“Oh, haha, yeah. I knew that. Totally.” Yaz shakes her head in disbelief and goes back to trying to wedge a hot water bottle between the bed and her back. “Here.” The Doctor steps forward and takes the bottle out of Yaz’s hands. She rests her fingers on the side of Yaz’s waist and guides her upward, far enough for the Doctor to slide the hot water bottle beneath her. Yaz feels the Doctor’s fingertips brush against a sliver of exposed skin above her hip. She feels her mouth go dry and tries to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks.  
  
“That okay?” The Doctor asks softly, letting her fingers linger for a moment. Yaz wishes she wouldn’t, it’s driving her mad. She lets out the most ridiculous noise, a high-pitched squeak or something; it’s embarrassing. The Doctor just smiles then rests her hands on her hips.  
  
“Okay, so, what can I do? What do you humans need when you’re sick? Food? I can get you something to eat, anything you want or blankets, do you need more blankets or pillows?! I love pillows, can never have too many. Ooh! Hot chocolate! You said that helped!”  
  
“Doctor.” Yaz interrupts, catching one of the Doctor’s hands with her own. The Doctor’s eyes flicker between their joined hands and Yaz’s face, her mouth open around a word that’s not managed to make its way out yet. “Just - sit with me? Maybe? If that’s alright with you? My sister used to jump into my bed and put a Netflix Christmas film on. They’re all bad but Sonya loves to rip films apart and listening to her made me feel it all a little less. I know that doesn’t really make sense - ”  
  
“Yeah it does.” The Doctor cuts Yaz off and before she knows it the Doctor is climbing up into the bed beside her. The Doctor wriggles under the covers and it’s only then that Yaz notices how cold it’s gotten in her room. Which is strange but she doesn’t have long to think about it. She feels the Doctor cuddle up to her side and for some reason Yaz’s head falls against the other woman’s collarbone.  
  
She’s so content; she doesn’t actually think she’s ever been this comfortable before. And then the Doctor presses a kiss against her hair and all she can do is close her eyes and let the butterflies go mad beneath her ribs.  
  
“Do you have Netflix?” Yaz whispers, scared that she’ll somehow ruin the moment. She feels the Doctor’s chest move beneath her, a soft chuckle coming from her lips.   
  
“I’m actually one of the producers at Netflix. Big ideas, me.” Yaz doesn’t believe her but that’s mostly because she’s half lying on top of her. She wouldn’t believe anything right now. She hears the buzz of the Doctor’s sonic then the telltale click of her TV turning on. Some terrible Christmas movie starts to play and she feels at home.   
  
She never opens her eyes to watch the movie. What’s the point? She’d never be able to focus on it anyway. The Doctor smells like fresh air and the TARDIS and it takes all she’s got not to try and snuggle in further, feel the Doctor pulled up against her properly. She tells herself not to get too attached to the feeling. No doubt it won’t last and Yaz knows she’s got an addictive personality. Once she’s had a hold of something she likes, she has a hard time passing it up.   
  
The Doctor is warm and soft, her fingers are gentle, running tracks through Yaz’s hair and her heartbeats are so mesmerizing, she could sleep right now. The Doctors holding Yaz close to her, like she means something. She so, _so_ wants to mean something.  
  
The next day is worse but Yaz expects just that. She’s used to it by now. But the Doctor is there.  
  
Her hot water bottles are all filled with water so hot that her tummy turns red, just the way she likes it even though when the Doctor catches a glimpse of her checker marked skin, she frowns. Concern and worry masked by a silent stare and a tilt of the head.   
  
The Doctor only leaves to make hot drinks or find food for them both. She keeps the hot water bottles hot with a flick of her sonic screwdriver and Yaz is tempted to ask for her very own sonic just for that reason. Other than that the Doctor stays, Yaz had insisted that the Doctor change out of her clothes into something more comfortable. The Doctor chose an oversized blue jumper and pyjama shorts, much to Yaz’s distress.  
  
The pain worsens as the day goes on and Yaz doesn’t know where to be anymore. Her head is pounding and her stomach feels like it’s been split into a million pieces and scattered everywhere. She presses a hot water bottle between her hips as far as her stomach will let her. She feels tears sting her eyes and she curses herself. She doesn’t want to cry but it just _hurts_. It hurts so much and she doesn’t know what else to do. So a tear falls, then another and soon she’s sobbing into her pillow because it’s not fair. It’s so not fair.  
  
She hears the Doctor kneel on the floor by her bed and she dares to open her eyes. The Doctor’s gaze is so sad. It upsets her to think that she’s the one making the Doctor feel this way.  
  
The Doctor cups Yaz’s cheek and runs a thumb across her skin. Her other hand comes up to rest on Yaz’s head, fingers threading their way through Yaz’s hair again. The pain eases a touch.

Her body jerks a little as the sobs subside. Then the Doctor leans forward and softly presses her lips against Yaz’s forehead. Yaz’s eyes flutter shut and she feels her chest fill with air, like she hasn’t been able to breathe properly until just now. The Doctor’s lips linger and Yaz wants to reach out, keep her there for as long as she can.  
  
When the Doctor pulls away, she crouches down to meet Yaz’s eyes, there’s a small smile there, her cheeks are tinted a light shade of pink and Yaz thinks she’s never seen someone so beautiful.  
  
“Yasmin Khan.” She sighs out, pushing stray strands of hair from Yaz’s forehead. “What am I gonna do with you, eh?”

Yaz chokes out a watery laugh and the Doctor smiles back. Then Yaz feels the Doctor’s thumb tracing a line from the corner of her lips to her jaw and back. This has to mean something. She has to mean something to the Doctor. Something _more_.  
  
“Come on.” The Doctor stands quickly, Yaz watches the other woman shake herself a little, like she’s trying to wake herself up or something, then the Doctor climbs back into Yaz’s bed and pulls her close. “Sleep always makes you humans feel better.”   
  
Yaz curls her body forward into the Doctor’s chest. Their feet collide in the middle of the bed and Yaz holds her breath. She feels the Doctor falter for a second before she finds herself being rearranged. The Doctor’s feet wiggle between hers until their legs are tangled together then the Doctor tucks an arm around Yaz’s back, pulling her closer. Yaz takes a deep breath and hugs the hot water bottle ever closer.   
  
She falls asleep wrapped up in the Doctor not knowing that for the first time in _ages,_ the Doctor sleeps too.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 things:  
> \- your comments are so so lovely!!  
> \- my periods are literally like this. pity me  
> \- have you guys noticed how often Yaz wears jumpers/shirts with stars on in the show? because i have and gay


	3. Chapter 3

**4**

Yaz doesn’t think that the Doctor actually _knows_ how to fly the TARDIS. Either that or the TARDIS is just having a grand ol’ time making the Doctor’s life a living hell, which, well, Yaz wouldn’t put it past the TARDIS really.

It feels like they land completely sideways even though Yaz is pretty sure that it’s not possible. Where? Yaz has no idea. When? No idea about that either.

“We’re here!” The Doctor singsongs – _actually_ singsongs, vaulting up from her place on the floor and flinging her arms up in the air like she’s just mastered an Olympic floor routine.

“Where is “here”, Doc?” says Graham, trying to determine which way is up.

“Somewhere! _Definitely_ somewhere.” The Doctor pokes around the centre console curiously. Yaz watches the other woman’s face for any indication that she actually _knows_ where she is.

“Oh, we’re here! See!” The Doctor points at some sort of display monitor but all Yaz can see is a load of weird orange cloud looking things.

“Yeah, nah, I’m still lost.” Ryan says while rubbing the back of his head. The Doctor rolls her eyes and spins around dramatically. Yaz watches her practically sprinting for the door. She only stops when she’s halfway through, one foot in, one foot out.

“Well? You comin’ or not?!” There’s a look in the Doctor’s eyes, childlike, full of excitement and adventure. Yaz is sure she’d follow the Doctor to the sun and back if she asked, or even if she didn’t. They follow her through the doors, like they always do.

It’s strange, like, they somehow seem to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The ground is solid beneath Yaz’s feet but that’s all she knows for certain, they’re surrounded by darkness but can see for miles and there’s nothing. Yaz’s police training kicks in. They’re not supposed to be here.

“This can’t be right.” The Doctor murmurs, drawing her sonic to take a sample of the air surrounding them. Yaz’s palms feel itchy and she’s shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She doesn’t like this; she doesn’t like the feeling that’s growing in the pit of her stomach.

“Where are we?” Ryan asks but Yaz doesn’t think he’ll get an answer.

“I’m not quite -” And then there’s a flash of light so bright, so intrusive that Yaz feels her head splitting. She closes her eyes, her hands fly to her ears, she feels the ground come up to meet her knees. It’s a trap. She knows it’s a trap. Too late now though.

When she can, she opens her eyes. They sting and everything is blurry to begin with, then she spots Ryan, then Graham, they look like her. On their knees, gasping a little. Lost.

The Doctor.

“Doctor!” Yaz yells before she even knows what’s going on. She’s not stupid, if someone’s going to set a trap it’s not going to be for any of them, they’re nobodies, hitchhikers, people with no meaning. But the Doctor? Everyone knows the Doctor, _everyone_ knows what she’s worth.

So when Yaz looks up, when she manages to get to her feet, when she sees something, some alien with fingers that just seem to go on and on wrapping themselves around the Doctor’s head, Yaz knows then that as much as the Doctor’s been protecting them, the Doctor needs protecting just as much, just as badly.

Ryan starts to rush toward the Doctor but Yaz grabs his jacket before he can move further.

“Wait! Just, hold on.” Yaz watches. She’s always been good at that, watching, listening, learning. There’s two of them, whatever they are, she can tell they’re alien but she wouldn’t want to even hazard a guess as to what kind. They’re dressed in suits, grey with a white shirt beneath, their bodies look human but their heads seem old, skin wrinkled and shrunken, eyes hollow and mouths blood red. Their fingers are _horrid_ , stick thin, long, so long that Yaz doesn’t know how many times they’ve wrapped themselves around the top of the Doctor’s head.

The Doctor looks like she’s having a bad dream, like she’s not with them but she’s still awake. She looks scared, lips quivering, eyes wide.

“No.” The Doctor breathes, barely loud enough for Yaz to hear. “ _No_.”

She’s talking to the aliens, Yaz should have known. The Doctor is the strongest person she knows, of course she’s still fighting, even now.

Then another burst of light and –

And its like they’re at some sick outdoor cinema except Yaz doesn’t know what she’s watching. There’s a light blue glow above their heads, things appear then vanish in an instant.

Christmas trees spinning, a boy in a gas mask reaching out, an angel with dead eyes made out of stone. It makes no sense. Not to Yaz.

Not until her eyes drop back to the Doctor, not until she sees the silent tears running down the other woman’s cheeks. She sees the Doctor trembling beneath the alien’s grasp and Yaz feels her heart break. The Doctor’s body goes rigid, she gasps.

“No. Please, no.” Yaz’s eyes swivel desperately between the Doctor and the images projecting above them. There’s a girl, young, blonde, she’s smiling so brightly. “Rose.”

Then she’s gone and Yaz can’t take the sound of the Doctor’s panicked breaths.

The images keep coming but Yaz can’t focus on them anymore. They need to do something and quick. The aliens don’t seem to notice that they’re even there so at least they’re not having to fend them off while trying to save the Doctor.  
  
“Yaz we’ve got to do something! _Now_!” Ryan shouts.  
  
“I know! Just - just give me a minute to think!”  
  
“We don’t have a minute, Yaz!” Graham pipes up, looking just as eager as Ryan, like they’re about ready to rugby tackle the aliens to the ground.  
  
“Everybody wants _something_.” Yaz whispers to herself. Her brain is going a mile a minute but she still doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere. She wishes she had the Doctor’s brain, the Doctor’s ridiculous, _amazing_ brain. If she could just -  
  
Wait. Yaz turns up to the images projecting above their heads, a pretty girl with short brown hair and constellations in her eyes stares back. They’re memories, the Doctor’s memories. Yaz balls her hands into fists and digs her nails in deep.  
  
“Her memories. They’re using them somehow.” She says, the words bitter on her tongue.   
  
“What? How?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter how, how do we stop it?” Graham inches closer to the Doctor, Yaz and Ryan follow. They get right up close and it’s as if they’re not even there. The aliens don’t pay them any mind and Yaz just wants to grab the Doctor’s hand and run.  
  
“Doctor? Doctor can you hear me?” Graham swallows thickly. Nothing happens. “Doctor?!” The projections above their head stutter.   
  
“That’s it, we need to wake her up.” The Doctor’s eyes might be open but Yaz can tell that she’s not with them, not in the present. “They’ve put her somewhere else. We need to bring her back here.”  
  
“How?!” Ryan all but yells.  
  
Yaz feels the urgency running through her, panic surges from her fingertips to her ears and she wants to throw up and run and scream all at once. The Doctor would protect her, the Doctor would save her. So in that moment Yaz decides that she’s going to save the Doctor.  
  
Before she knows what she’s doing her fingers are laced with the Doctor’s, she doesn’t tug, doesn’t want to alert the aliens but the images in the air flicker again and the aliens shuffle themselves a little in agitation.   
  
“Doctor, can you hear me? It’s Yaz. We need you to wake up.” She squeezes the Doctor’s hand a little. Yaz sees her chest move, falter just the slightest.   
  
“Come on, Doc.” Graham says softly.   
  
“You beat giant spiders and a dodgy looking guy with teeth for a face and you’re gonna let a couple of door to door salesmen get the better of you?” Ryan, ever the wordsmith. But Yaz sees it, the tiny upward quirk of the Doctor’s lips. The images stop and the aliens’ eyes snap toward them.  
  
“Doctor!” Yaz steps forward, letting go of the Doctor’s fingers and instead pressing both of her hands to the Doctor’s cheeks. The Doctor’s eyes seem to clear like clouds parting before a blue sky and Yaz can tell that she finally sees her. “We need you, _now_!”  
  
The Doctor looks at her then, really looks at her, like Yaz is the only person in the room, or the world maybe.   
  
“Yaz?” She whispers.   
  
“Doctor?”  
  
“Sonic.”  
  
The aliens see them. Their darkened mouths open angrily, their eyes grow wider and blacker and it feels like the temperature drops twenty degrees in half a second. But the Doctor is there, like she always is and Yaz would never let her down.

So she reaches into the Doctor’s coat and wraps her fingers around the sonic screwdriver. The aliens are detangling themselves from the Doctor and beginning their reach for Ryan and Graham and Yaz when she thrusts the object into the Doctor’s grasp, she starts to let go but the Doctor wraps her fingers around Yaz’s and holds on so tightly that it almost hurts.

The Doctor brings the sonic up between their chests and Yaz doesn’t know how long they’ve been staring at each other. The Doctor’s eyes are wide and full and the look she’s giving Yaz makes her heart beat a million times a minute.

“ _Run_.”

The Doctor presses down on Yaz’s thumb which presses down on the button on the side of the sonic. There’s an almighty bass drop, like someone’s just fired a rocket into space, Yaz feels it in her chest, in her bones and then there’s a blinding orange glow. She feels someone tugging at her elbow and someone else pulling her by the hand. The next thing she sees is the TARDIS door closing behind her.

She vaguely registers the Doctor yelling something about getting out of there, she sees her pulling the lever on the centre console and she feels the jolt of the TARDIS setting off, out into space.

When they’re good. When they’re good and together and far, far away from that place. Yaz decides that it’s okay to breathe again, she and Graham work together to tug Ryan off of the TARDIS floor and all three stagger toward the centre console.

The Doctor looks aged. Haggard and tired and like someone’s just dragged her kicking and screaming through some kind of hell and back again. But she still stands and Yaz wonders where she gets her strength.

“I’m sorry.” The Doctor’s voice cracks a little and Yaz feels sad and angry and hurt by it all. She wants nothing more than to make the Doctor feel safe.

“What you sorry for?” Ryan shakes his head in disbelief.

“Ryan’s right, you’ve got nothing to apologize for, Doc. We’re only sorry we couldn’t pull you out sooner.” Says Graham with a gentle smile. The Doctor only frowns down at herself, lost in a thought that she can’t quite shake. Yaz can tell that she wants to be alone and prods at the guys’ backs. She jerks her head upward toward the corridor and after a few dramatic eyerolls they catch on.

“You know where we are if you need us, Doc.” Graham touches the top of the Doctor’s arm then disappears into the TARDIS, Ryan follows shortly after. Yaz hesitates, she wants to say something but she doesn’t know what. The Doctor looks so sad and all Yaz wants to do is hug her.

So she does.

Walks right up behind her and wraps her arms tightly around the Doctor’s middle. She rests her temple against the back of the Doctor’s shoulder and shuts her eyes; desperately wishing she could take the Doctor’s sadness away. She feels the Doctor’s body soften and lean back against her.

“Thanks, Yaz.” Yaz hears her tone, like she’s got nothing left to give.

“My hugs are pretty good.” Yaz mumbles into the Doctor’s coat, reluctant to let go.

“No.” The Doctor wriggles out of Yaz’s grasp much to her disappointment. The Doctor turns around to look her in the eye and Yaz misses touching her already. “Well, yeah. I used to hate hugs, back when I was a man, sometimes anyway, depended on the person really, but your hugs, can always count on a Yaz hug.”

Yaz feels a warmth flood through her chest right to her fingertips. She feels her cheeks turning pink but doesn’t even care anymore; she wants the Doctor to know how happy she makes her. The Doctor should know how wonderful she is.

“But no, that’s not what I was sayin’, what was I sayin’?” The Doctor frowns down at herself. “Oh, yes! You solved it, you solved it all on your own, you’re so _smart_ and I couldn’t help you until you helped me. You were amazing!”

Yaz hears her heart beating entirely too loudly.

“Not just me.”

“No,” The Doctor considers Yaz’s words, bobbing her head from side to side. “But I heard you the loudest.” The Doctor says, leveling Yaz with a look that’s both grateful and something else, something slightly colder, Yaz can’t quite work it out.

Yaz thinks back to the memories she’d seen, the memories she wasn’t supposed to see. All the villains and misunderstandings, the people. The girl with stars in her eyes, the girl with blue shoes and red hair, the girl called Rose. Yaz wants to know more, she wants to know all about the Doctor, her life, the people she’s loved, the people that loved her.

“Why did they show us all those things?” Yaz asks and watches as the Doctor slumps backward against the centre console.

“They weren’t really showing _you_ anything, that’s just how the Mnemosynths feed, absorbing energy from memories. The projections are a kind of side effect of absorption I suppose.” The Doctor suddenly finds the floor of the TARDIS very interesting.

“These – these memo….synths, they wanted your memories? For…..food?”

“ _Energy_. Food is seen as different things to different species. Mnemosynths have a habit of choosing those with a wealth of memories so that they only need to feed once every so often.” The Doctor explains, her hands dance from side to side as if it’ll help tell the story better, Yaz watches her, fascinated.

“Would they have killed you?” Yaz asks quietly as if afraid of the answer. She knows it doesn’t matter now because they’re safe, they’re home. But she’s always been a “what if” kind of girl. Wanting to know every possible outcome.

The Doctor shrugs a little, tugs her coat closer to her body, she looks out of place somehow. Uncomfortable in some kind of way.

“Maybe? Maybe not. They’re not the worst of species really and it’s not their fault that they have to feed off’ve others’ memories to survive. Design flaw to be honest.” The Doctor shrugs, she continues to amaze Yaz, those aliens, they hurt her and yet here she is, advocating _for_ them.

“You’re ridiculous.” Yaz lets out in a breathy sort of laugh, the Doctor’s brow scrunches together.

“Is it the socks? I thought I’d go for a change but green doesn’t seem to be my colour.”

“No, Doctor.” Yaz takes the Doctor’s hands with her own. “You’re still the best person I’ve ever met.”

The Doctor looks down at her, mouth slightly agape like she doesn’t know what to say, eyes searching Yaz’s own curiously. Then Yaz’s eyes dart down to the Doctor’s lips and she thinks of how nice it would be to kiss her. Yaz runs her tongue over her bottom lip wondering when her mouth started to feel so dry.

But she knows it’s not the right time, the Doctor is sad and hurting and Yaz is coming down off an alien-induced adrenaline high. She cares too much to ruin something so good. The Doctor’s eyes never leave Yaz’s face.

“I loved her.” The Doctor says. Yaz feels the Doctor starting to let go of Yaz’s hands but Yaz is _fed up_ of the Doctor brooding, thinking she’s alone because she has to be. So when one hand falls away Yaz holds tight and steady to the other, she laces her fingers between the Doctor’s and doesn’t let go. She watches the Doctor remember her, watches the memories replaying behind her eyes.

“Rose?” Yaz whispers. The Doctor nods once, barely.

“She was mine. I couldn’t keep her safe.” Yaz squeezes her hand tighter and leans up to tuck the Doctor’s hair back behind her ear. The Doctor stares at Yaz. “I couldn’t keep any of them safe.”

Yaz watches her relive every awful event that’s ever happened to her and she can’t help but wonder how this woman, this magnificent, amazing, ridiculous woman thinks that the burden is all hers to carry.

“Oh Doctor.” Yaz hums, gently caressing the Doctor’s cheekbone with her thumb; she catches a single tear and wipes it away. “What am I going to do with you, eh?”

**5**

Yaz decides that coming home doesn’t really feel like coming home anymore, it mostly just feels like a visit, a quick pit stop. Work a couple shifts, make sure Sheffield is still intact, say hello to the family, try to convince said family that she’s _not_ seeing the Doctor, nor having feelings for her. All the normal stuff really.

Yaz admits that she misses her family and the trips back to Sheffield are a welcome break sometimes, especially after all the running. Graham and Ryan seem to enjoy the occasional trip back too, it’s just a bit of vacation time really. Yaz and Ryan can earn a little money and Graham can finally eat an entire meal without being interrupted.

The Doctor worries less too. The first couple of times the Doctor dropped them off her face would harden a little, sad eyes and a frown, her fingers would tap nervously against the blue of the TARDIS door and Yaz could tell she was afraid that they wouldn’t come back. But they always come back and the Doctor always smiles and Yaz can’t imagine a day where she’d choose to stay away.

This time is no different. They land in front of Yaz’s apartment block, it’s not smooth, it’s _never_ smooth, the Doctor has brought them back to this exact spot _more_ than ten times and every single time Ryan ends up on the floor.

Graham pokes his head out of the door while Yaz pulls Ryan to his feet. He shoots the Doctor a glare; Yaz tries not to laugh when the Doctor raises her hands defensively.

“Personally, I think that this is the best landing yet. One down out of four isn’t bad, is it Yaz?” The Doctor stuffs her hands in her pockets happily and turns to Yaz, eyes wide.

“Don’t drag me into this.” The Doctor pouts and Yaz can’t help but grin back. She’s so adorable and Yaz is pretty sure she’s in love with her.

Anyway.

They file out of the TARDIS one by one, Ryan and Graham wave goodbye and head off down the street together. They know the deal by now. Meet back in the same place in two days time.

Sometimes the Doctor stays, says there are things to do in the TARDIS, parts to fix, improvements to be made but most of the time, she and the TARDIS vanish. Yaz wonders how long she _actually_ leaves for. For Yaz, it’s just two days, but the Doctor could be away for months then return exactly when she’s supposed to.

She has to keep reminding herself that _time doesn’t exist_.

She stops outside the TARDIS door and looks up toward her flat, her parents are probably home and she just _knows_ she’s about to be inundated with questions that she doesn’t really have the energy to answer, she feels the Doctor bump their shoulders together. Yaz turns to watch the Doctor gaze up at the block of flats in front of them.

“Where you off to this time then?” Yaz asks, she’s genuinely interested but also a little sad that she won’t be going too. She misses the Doctor whenever she leaves; things are quieter, _boring_ , somehow just more – linear? It’s hard to explain, Yaz just knows that the Doctor makes her feel more than she ever has living here.

The Doctor does that thing again. Shrugs nonchalantly, scuffs her boots against the pavement. She runs her fingers over the surface of the TARDIS and seems to find the paintwork on the door oddly fascinating in that moment.

“Dunno. There’ll be something happening somewhere no doubt. Maybe head east, heard there was some kind of feline uprising about three thousand years from now.” Yaz frowns. The Doctor folds her arms across her chest. “Or Australia. Really want to see that big cow.”

“Big cow?” Yaz just stares at her.

“Yeah! You know? Knickers the big Australian cow!”

Yaz doesn’t quite know what to say but she finds herself smiling anyway.

“I guess that sounds fun.” Yaz doesn’t even convince herself with the tone she’s using. It sounds terrible, the Doctor going anywhere without Yaz sounds terrible. The Doctor leans back against the TARDIS and nods a little.

“Suppose.”

She’s sulking. She’s actually sulking like a five year old. It’s like that time; the first time the Doctor dropped them off. She didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want them to leave but she was too afraid to say so. Yaz saw right through her that day. Yaz sees right through her now, too.

“You could always come for tea at mine you know?” Yaz says casually, trying to act like the outcome doesn’t matter _that_ much even though she’d love nothing more. The Doctor grins and bounces on the balls of her feet.

“Thought you’d never ask! I was gettin’ cold.”

Yaz rolls her eyes. The Doctor tugs the TARDIS door shut firmly then does something that Yaz can’t quite get her head around. She holds Yaz’s hand.

Yaz doesn’t even know what’s going on. The Doctor’s skin is warm beneath her own and her stomach feels like it’s just done an entire somersault. Then they’re walking. And the Doctor is still holding her hand.

Yaz is sure her mouth hangs open for the entire journey to the flat. Sure they’ve held hands before, mostly when the Doctor’s yelling at them to run for their lives but it’s different this time. They’re just – holding hands, for no reason at all. Other than to hold hands.

Yaz wants to do this all the time.

Thankfully the Doctor lets go when they reach Yaz’s door, if her mum catches them holding hands – well, she doesn’t even want to _think_ about that. Handing that woman any kind of ammunition is a very dangerous game.

“I’m home! Got the Doctor with me.” Yaz calls out as she pushes the door open; the Doctor follows her in, a stupid happy kind of look on her face. Yaz knows how much the Doctor loves coming to hers; it’s like a home away from home for her, Yaz supposes. She’s glad that she can make the Doctor feel comfortable.

“Oh really? You left before I did this morning.” Her mum leans against the corridor wall, eyebrows raised, arms folded across her chest and oh yes, Yaz knows that look. It’s the same look she uses when she’s sorting out parking disputes or rowdy neighbours. It also occurs to her that “this morning” was actually months ago for Yaz.

“We wanted to get an early start, didn’t we?” Yaz shoots the Doctor a pointed glance. The Doctor grins widely at Najia and Yaz can just tell she wants to talk about witches and frogs and how bubble wrap is probably the newest form of biological warfare.

“Yep. Lots to see. Early bird gets the worm and all that, right?” The Doctor clasps her hands together and rocks back onto her heel. “That is the saying, right?”

Yaz rolls her eyes and shrugs her coat off. She walks past her mum and goes to flick the kettle on. She watches her mum eye the Doctor the same way she always does, like she’s taking her daughter on secret adventures and never telling anyone anything about it.

Which is exactly what the Doctor is doing. Her mum isn’t stupid.

“How was your day, Yaz?” Her dad asks, looking up from the cookbook resting on the kitchen table. Yaz silently prays he’s not going to test out a new recipe on them tonight.

“Good, just went for a bit of a wander.”

“She taking good care of you?” He points a wooden spoon in the direction of the Doctor who looks to be edging her way around Najia very carefully. Yaz groans and turns back to the kettle, willing it to boil faster.

“Do me best!” The Doctor announces, joining them both in the kitchen. “Well, Yaz is actually very good at taking care of herself, aren’t you? She booted a Pting once you know? Also very good with mirrors.”

Yaz wants to die. She flattens a palm against her face and breaths out a long slow breath.

“Tea, Doctor?” She says loudly, glaring over her shoulder at the other woman.

“Ooh, yes please. Yaz makes the _best_ tea. Cereal too, she’s not that good at toast though.” The Doctor informs her dad happily. Yaz thinks she’s been groaning for about five minutes straight now. At least her dad and the Doctor seem to get along pretty well.

It gets even better when she hears the door slam. _Great_ , another annoying family member. Yaz is beginning to think this whole “bringing the Doctor back” thing wasn’t actually the best idea after all.

“Oh.” Sonya says, eyes leaving her phone and landing on each of them in turn, she stares at the Doctor a little longer, her eyes narrow and Yaz can see the start of a smirk working it’s way onto her lips. “It’s _you._ ”

“It is!” The Doctor looks so awkward and Yaz would laugh if she weren’t currently dealing with her own anxiety. Then Sonya is grinning at her like she’s just discovered Yaz’s biggest, most embarrassing secret. Yaz scowls back.

“Didn’t know you were having _friends_ over.” Sonya actually pockets her phone and slumps down in the chair next to her mother, opposite the Doctor. The way she says the word “friends” has Yaz making the tea ten times faster than before.

“Got to run everything past you do I?” Yaz says but is too busy to really care that her sister is actually trying to wind her up.

“Nah, just wondering how you’ve kept her around.” Sonya quips, Yaz doesn’t need to turn around to know that her sister is enjoying every second of this. “She’s never had any friends you know?”

“Sonya, be quiet.” Her mum hisses quietly. Yaz frowns down at the mugs in front of her and wonders why digs like that still get to her. It’s frustrating and upsetting and now she’s thinking about Izzy Flint.

“Me either, I suppose.” The Doctor says and Yaz peers over her shoulder to catch the Doctor shrugging like its no big deal. “Well, no, I’ve had friends, _lots_ of friends, don’t see a lot of them now though. Graham, Ryan and Yaz are some of the best friends I’ve ever had. Wouldn’t want it any other way! What’s the point of having loads of friends anyway? That’s a lot of names to remember.”

The Doctor grins and Yaz thinks she’s wonderful. She catches herself staring and shakes her head a little but its too late, her mum’s eyes are on her and she’s smiling, small but knowing and Yaz decides that she’s had enough of them for today.

“I’ll be in my room if anyone needs me.” Yaz announces, turning around with a mug of tea in each hand. Her eyes land on the Doctor, she raises her eyebrows and nods as subtly as she can in the direction of the hallway. The Doctor just stares at her happily as if waiting for an invitation or direction or something. Yaz sighs.

“You coming?”

The Doctor leaps up and takes one of the mugs of tea between her hands.

“Yes! Yes I am. Bye Yaz’s family! Was nice seeing you again, glad to see the spiders aren’t tryin’ to make a comeback!” Yaz decides the only option is to push the Doctor toward her room, that’s the only way they’re going to get out of there anytime soon. So she does, the Doctor waves over her shoulder awkwardly.

“Door, Yasmin!” Her mother yells just as she’s about to slam the door to her room shut behind them both. She compromises and closes it _almost_ entirely.

Yaz sees her bed for the first time in _months_ and suddenly she’s drained. She slides her mug onto the bedside table and collapses backward onto the mattress.

“ _Oh my god_.” She groans, eyes shut, finally at peace. Her family proper do her head in.

It’s lovely. Silent and still and warm and everything Yaz remembers her room to be. She’s a few deep breaths in when she remembers the Doctor is actually here with her. Unusual for her to be so quiet. She opens one eye and finds the other woman staring straight back at her, mug of tea wrapped snuggly between both hands, her cheeks are a little pink and she looks so, so awkward and out of place.

“Sorry about them.” She sighs, closing her eyes again. “They’re hard work.”

“Nah, pretty tame as far as family goes I reckon. Met worse anyway, well, suppose it depends on your definition of “family”, you ever heard of the Adiposian First Family? Proper dodgy family that lot. Maybe family’s not the right word. Still dodgy though.”

“Mmmm.” Yaz hums, she’s totally listening but she’s also pretty sure she’s a minute away from falling asleep. There’s a soft thudding noise to her right and then she feels the bed beside her dip. The Doctor is there, lying next to her, staring up at the ceiling with her fingers laced together across her stomach.

She looks so soft, calm and happy and maybe a little lost but in a good way, like she doesn’t mind being a little lost for a while.

“You tired, Doctor?” The Doctor shakes her head the slightest then turns to look at Yaz. Yaz feels herself holding her breath and just – staring. She’s beautiful, Yaz wonders how much longer she’ll be able to go without saying it out loud.

“Never tired, me.”

Yaz rolls her eyes.

“Liar.”

The Doctor just smiles and Yaz wants to kiss her again. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t just _do it_.

Sometimes, Yaz thinks the Doctor looks at her the same way that Yaz looks at the Doctor, like the stars and the planets and the universe are _nothing_ compared to her. She’s been wrong about this kind of thing before though and it’s scary, Yaz isn’t a coward but when it comes to _feelings_ , well, she’d rather not think about them altogether.

So instead of kissing her she reaches between them both and laces their fingers together, squeezing just a little. The Doctor’s hands feel calloused but soft and much to Yaz’s pleasure, she feels the Doctor squeezing back gently.

They both turn to stare back up at the ceiling, Yaz wonders if this’ll be her life now. She wouldn’t mind overly to be honest. Thrilling adventures, amazing new places, time alone with the Doctor. It’s enough, more than enough in fact.

She falls asleep beside the Doctor, hands still tangled together between them both. She never sees the Doctor lean over to brush Yaz’s hair behind her ear; she doesn’t feel the way the Doctor’s thumb lingers against her skin.

The Doctor shuffles closer, it doesn’t take long for her eyes to close, a second later she’s asleep too. She’s slept more in the last couple of months than she had in her previous lifetime. Yaz seems to be the recurring factor.

Later, when Najia pushes the door open just a touch, just to check whether they actually want food or not, she’s not overly surprised by what she sees. Yaz’s head is tucked neatly against the Doctor’s collarbone and she can just make out their hands, joined together between them.

Najia smiles.

Her daughter always seems to fall first and ask questions later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, your comments are so so lovely  
> this suddenly got.....a whole chapter longer  
> inspiration for the Mnemosynths include The Gentlemen and Der Kindestod off've Buffy because they both ruined my ability to sleep as a child


	4. Chapter 4

**6**

Yaz has been staring at the ceiling of her room in the TARDIS for approximately a very long time, it’s not that she _can’t_ sleep it’s just – it’s like her body is telling her not to bother. It’s frustrating but also not, Yaz doesn’t mind staring at the ceiling, she never seems to get bored and the TARDIS is always there, humming away, keeping her company.

She doesn’t sleep much anymore. Whether it’s the lack of routine or just the fact that her brain is constantly switched on she doesn’t know. She always seems to be thinking about something; her family back in Sheffield, the adventures they’ve had, the adventures still to come, the people they’ve met –

The _Doctor_.

She thinks about the Doctor a lot. She thinks so many things that sometimes it’s hard to untangle everything, to put together an actual coherent thought. Things get jumbled up, one minute she’s remembering something the Doctor said, something insanely complicated and _brilliant_ , then the next she’s picturing her smile, the goofy kind, the one she uses when she’s just called Yaz, Graham and Ryan “fam” and she’s trying to get away with it. Then she’s thinking about her eyes and her hair and the way Yaz’s name sounds when the Doctor says it and –

She needs to chill out, like, in a _big way_.

The TARDIS whirs loudly making Yaz jump a little, her hand goes to her chest and she tosses the TARDIS walls a sideways glance.

“What was that for?” She grumbles. The TARDIS hums and Yaz thinks it sounds a bit like the TARDIS is laughing which, really, is uncalled for. Then her bedroom door pops open, just a crack. Yaz gets it now. She smiles happily up at the ceiling before swinging her legs off the side of the bed and sliding her slippers on.

“Sounds like a plan.”

The TARDIS hadn’t taken her anywhere for a while. Nobody’s fault really, they’ve both been busy. Yaz; running for her life and the TARDIS flying them away from whatever they were running from. So it’s quite nice, the feeling of familiarity, exploring corridors with the TARDIS humming around her warmly.

Yaz finds herself climbing upward, the TARDIS lights the way, corridors and staircases appear as if out of nowhere and Yaz feels like the TARDIS is on some kind of mission that only she knows about.

She’s panting a little when the TARDIS decides that it’s time to stop climbing. Yaz pats the wall heavily in silent thanks. She blows a stray strand of hair out of her face and sets off down the corridor, her fingers brushing along the wall.

There’s not many doors on this floor and whenever she does come across one it’s usually something pretty mundane, there’s a closet full of Fez’s, a room packed with boxes – Yaz sneaks a peek but is disappointed when all she finds are random light bulb fittings and lots of electrical cable bits, there’s a room _filled_ with hot water bottles, blankets and pillows.

All in all, she doesn’t really know why the TARDIS brought her here.

Until she sees _that_ door. The one with the aged brass doorknob, the big ancient hinges, the pitted old wood. It’s that room. The one she came across ages ago.

She frowns upward at the TARDIS and takes a few steps backward.

“We talked about this.” The TARDIS groans back quietly, softly, like she’s trying to tell her that it’s alright and to maybe stop being so ridiculously respectful for _once_ in her life.

Yaz swallows and stares at the door. The TARDIS wants her here for a reason, she’s not stupid but she supposes the TARDIS isn’t either. The blue box always has a way of making sure they’re where they need to be, when they need to be there.

So she turns the handle.

It’s the same as before, walls lined top to bottom with books, fire glowing happily under a mantelpiece, stars shine down through the glass – definitely alien technology – ceiling and the sofa, the sofa sits in the same place as before, except, well –

There’s someone on it this time. Someone with blonde hair and a nose that’s buried so deeply in a book, it’s a wonder she can see to read the words.

She still feels like she’s intruding. The Doctor looks so content and _comfy_ , she’s wrapped up in so many blankets and surrounded by so many pillows and she looks so, so small and peaceful. The Doctor doesn’t turn around and Yaz doesn’t really know how to get her attention or even if she should, she could still sneak out -

Then the TARDIS hums loudly and the vibrations tickle Yaz’s hand, like an electric shock, her skin feels like its _fizzing_.

“Oi!” Yaz pulls her hand up to her chest, gently rubbing her at palm.

“Yaz?” Yaz forgets where she is for a second and shoots the TARDIS a look of absolute betrayal. “What are you doing here?”

The Doctor turns around to face Yaz, her nose all scrunched up in that way it does. Yaz feels her face getting hotter and hotter and she’d love nothing more than to give the TARDIS a swift kick in the shins. If the TARDIS had any shins.

“I was just – uh, exploring? I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not. Never are.” The Doctor smiles at her then, it goes right up to her eyes and Yaz finds herself smiling back. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah, but it’s fine, don’t get a lot of sleep nowadays.” Yaz shrugs and the Doctor frowns again.

“Yeah, sorry about that, partly my fault – well – mostly my fault I suppose. Come sit?” The Doctor nods her head to the side, gesturing down at the sofa.

Yaz really can’t say no, why would she? Sitting on a big, comfy, purple couch shrouded with blankets next to her favourite person in the world? Sounds pretty perfect actually. Yaz closes the door behind her and shuffles over; she pulls her sleeves down over her hands and fidgets with the cuffs.

The Doctor is smiling brightly and holding up a blanket when Yaz reaches her. She takes the other end of the blanket and snuggles down beneath it, taking care to leave just enough space between herself and the Doctor.

“What are you doing?” Yaz asks. The Doctor shrugs back, eyes never leaving Yaz.

“Was reading, then you got here, talkin’ to you is better than reading. Books are all so proper, half of it doesn’t go in I swear, not sayin’ you’re not proper, obviously, you’re just a bit more my speed.” Yaz raises her eyebrows skeptically at that.

“ _Your_ speed? Doctor, I’m pretty sure you’re the only person that goes your speed.” The Doctor chuckles softly. She closes her book and sets it on a little coffee table. “Did you make tea?” Yaz nods her head at the steaming mug sat next to the book.

“Yes! Yes I did, all by myself too and nothing caught on fire. At least nothing related to the tea making anyway and I did it the right way. _Not_ the Graham way.” The Doctor looks extremely proud of herself. “Here, try it.” The Doctor hands Yaz the mug and watches her with wide eyes. Yaz feels a little awkward but takes a sip anyway. She almost dies.

“Doctor! How much sugar did you put in that?” Yaz grimaces and hands her the mug back. The Doctor pouts downward at the brown liquid.

“I dunno. Just kept going I suppose, never really took note of how many you put in. Is it bad? I haven’t tried it yet.”

“Oh so you tried it out on me? Charming that is.” But the Doctor looks so innocent and Yaz can't help but smile all the same. The Doctor huffs and sets the mug back on the table.

There’s a silence. A nice one, just warm and peaceful, like home – when her sister’s not around making her life a living hell anyway. Yaz gazes up at the ceiling and tries to make out constellations even though they’re probably nowhere near the familiar stars of the Milky Way.  
  
“How does that work?” Yaz asks. The Doctor tilts her head back to glance up at the stars then smiles fondly.  
  
“Old Time Lord technology. Created way before I existed, which was a very, very long time ago. It’s the only thing on this blasted ship that I don’t have to fix every other day.” The TARDIS wheezes defensively but Yaz can tell by the small smirk on the Doctor’s face that she’s just joking. “This is my favourite room, other than the core obviously. Nothing better than the heart of a time ship.”  
  
“It is a very nice room.” Yaz says lamely but the Doctor’s mouth opens into a massive grin all the same.  
  
“You like it?”  
  
“Who wouldn’t like a room filled with books and blankets and a massive purple sofa?” Yaz teases. The Doctor just beams back. Yaz thinks back to the guilt she felt before, when she first discovered the room. How the TARDIS had lead her there but never told her why.  
  
“I’ve been here before. Once.” Yaz says quietly looking down at the blanket covering her, she feels guilty again, even though deep down she knows there’s nothing to feel guilty about. There’s a moment of silence before Yaz feels the Doctor’s hand against her knee.  
  
“I know.” The Doctor looks at her with such openness that Yaz doesn’t know how to feel. Like she could spill all her secrets to her and the Doctor wouldn’t see her any different. “I’m not daft and you’re a terrible liar, Yasmin Khan. There’s definitely no bowling alley on this ship. I’ve looked.” Yaz’s jaw drops open.  
  
“There is! The TARDIS took me there!” The Doctor raises an eyebrow playfully.  
  
“Seems like she likes you more than she likes me then, eh?” The TARDIS hums, strong but gentle in a way that’s so soothing Yaz almost feels sleepy.  
  
“I don’t think anyone could like me more than you, Doctor.” Yaz says. She watches the other woman’s eyebrows come together in thought. Yaz feels the flutter beneath her chest.  
  
“Remember you said about Izzy Flint? That time we went swimming.” Yaz flinches a little at the name but finds herself more dumbstruck by how the Doctor describes the situation.  
  
“Okay we didn’t go swimming, some angry lady with massive side buns tried to drown you and I’m worried that you classify that as _swimming_.” The Doctor just rolls her eyes. “And yes, I do remember her. Kind of hard to forget really.” Yaz sighs trying not to think of the girl that made her feel horrid for an entire year.  
  
“Why did she bully you? I mean - I know a bully only bullies because they’re scared of something themselves. Just wondering why she chose you.” The Doctor says, she looks confused and a little sad too.  
  
Yaz has gotten used to this version of the Doctor, the one that can jump about and ramble for _days_ one minute then wear her emotions on her sleeve the next. She never sees her act that way around Ryan or Graham and Yaz finds that it’s mostly when they’re alone that the Doctor seems to relax just the slightest.  
  
She’ll say something quietly, something personal or comforting or she’ll lean into Yaz looking for warmth or contact, Yaz still isn’t sure why and it’s soft and kind and incredibly beautiful and Yaz feels special. She wonders if the Doctor’s ever felt special, she wonders if she’d be able to make her feel that way.  
  
“Easy target I suppose.” Yaz shrugs thinking back to the countless times she cried herself to sleep. “I was a bit off, never really had many friends. My mum called me driven but I think I was just naive to the whole “being a kid” thing.” Yaz catches the Doctor’s gaze and she looks the same. Eyes wide, asking for more, asking to be let in.  
  
“I also got confused a lot. I loved science and sport but got my words all jumbled up. I think it was the pressure of school that did it. Izzy would laugh at me, which meant everyone else would laugh because she was the popular girl. I dunno, I think I grew up too fast. Hated myself for it, too. Cried a lot, even tried praying for it to all just go away. Never really did though, still feel stupid sometimes when I’m stressed and the words don’t slot together right in my brain.” Yaz laughs dryly, picking at a thread sticking out from her jumper’s sleeve. She feels the Doctor’s hand on the side of her face.   
  
“You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever known.” The Doctor tucks Yaz’s hair behind her ear and Yaz wonders when she’d shuffled herself closer, rearranged herself so their knees pressed together, side by side, she finds her shoulder touching the Doctor’s.  
  
“I think Izzy Flint was probably scared of you.” Yaz shakes her head and the Doctor’s hand falls away. She misses the contact so she moves impossibly closer, turning on her side so she’s facing the Doctor head on, her knees tuck beneath the bridge of the Doctor’s legs. She sees the Doctor’s eyes dip and feels her heart beating loudly in her ears.  
  
“I’m not very scary, Doctor.” Yaz mumbles.  
  
“Okay, not _scary_. Intimidating perhaps? Frightening, maybe?” The Doctor trails off. Yaz frowns, she’s pretty sure she’s absolutely none of those things but the Doctor is looking at her so intensely she doesn’t know what to do.  
  
“What do you mean? Why would I be frightening? Why would Izzy Flint be frightened of _me_?” And it’s like a light flicks on somewhere in her head. The Doctor swallows, blinks, looks away. They’re not talking about Izzy anymore.  
  
“I’m not scared of a lot, Yaz, a few things yeah; we’ve all got to be scared of something, but me? I’ve seen it all, or a lot of it anyway and I know myself well enough to know what frightens _me,_ to know what I should be afraid of.” The Doctor pauses like she’s trying to catch up with her own thoughts.

Yaz inches closer, she finds herself reaching out without even knowing it. She runs her thumb above the Doctor’s eyebrow and back across the top of her ear, moving blonde hair out of the way so Yaz can see her face. The Doctor leans into the touch and catches Yaz’s hand between her cheek and the back of the sofa. There’s an ache beneath her ribs.   
  
“Sometimes I just wish I could stop.” The Doctor looks upward straight into Yaz’s own eyes and Yaz can see the fear beneath them. She waits for more but nothing comes.  
  
“Stop what?” Yaz breathes.   
  
“Regenerating.” Yaz frowns, why would she ever do that? She’s the most important person in history, the most _powerful_ person in the universe and here she is, thinking about never helping anyone ever again. That can’t be right.  
  
“That’s frightening to me, Yaz. That thought – that thought right at the back of my mind, it’s always there. I’m always _thinking_ it.”  
  
“So why think that? Why worry yourself so much?”  
  
The Doctor stares at her, long and hard, makes Yaz think that she’s missing something. She can’t think, not with the Doctor looking at her like that.  
  
“Well.” The Doctor laughs once, dry, no humour in it at all. “You came along.”

Yaz feels her heart stop.

“The thought of going on after you, or being a different person and not having you there - “ The Doctor stops and Yaz is glad for it, she feels numb and everything all at once and for the first time in a long time her brain is completely silent, she can’t even hear the TARDIS, it’s like the universe is holding its breath just waiting to find out what happens.  
  
“You might not frighten yourself, Yasmin Khan but you sure do frighten me.”  
  
It’s like the Doctor has concluded some massive, important, life changing speech and the silence is just begging to be shattered. Yaz stares at her, mouth dry, lips parted just waiting to wake up. She can’t breathe, she can’t think, she can’t move, she can’t even line up a simple string of words to reassure the Doctor. To tell her that Yaz has loved her since the start.  
  
“Yaz - I...”  
  
She does the only thing she can do and tilts the Doctor’s jaw upward; she leans down and presses her lips against the Doctor’s.   
  
Then she melts. She melts into the Doctor, the way her hands feel when they flutter to Yaz’s waist, the way her fingers tug just the slightest, urging her forward, closer to the Doctor, the way the Doctor hums quietly into Yaz’s lips. She’d never thought she could feel like this.   
  
Yaz’s hand glides down the Doctor’s neck and lands softly against her collarbone. The Doctor gasps against her mouth and Yaz forgets what breathing is supposed to feel like.  
  
She has to pull away, she feels herself trembling and the Doctor’s skin is like fire against her own. When she opens her eyes the Doctor is already staring back and Yaz can see the reflection of the stars shining back at her.  
  
“You kissed me.”  
  
“Yes, I did do that.” Yaz confirms, voice wobbling everywhere.  
  
“Why? I mean – I’m _definitely_ not complaining. But why?”  
  
“Because you’re a time traveling idiot that thinks _I’m_ scary.” The Doctor grins up at Yaz and Yaz has never thought about home being a person until now. “Did you know – ”

The Doctor inches forward and tilts her head back, she’s smiling so softly and her eyes are wide and puppy-like. She’s adorable and yeah, Yaz loves her, _easily_. Yaz’s thumb finds her jaw and traces a line back to her hair. She wonders if her heart will ever calm down.  
  
“You’re the _best_ person I’ve ever met?”

The Doctor raises her eyebrows, mock surprise covers her face and Yaz is almost one hundred percent sure she’s about to start rambling. Good thing she’s just found a new way to _shut her up_.

“You know, I – ”

Yaz kisses her again, long and slow and like they’ve got all the time in the world.

“Stop talking, _Doctor_.” Yaz whispers against her lips. She feels the Doctor's lips pull upward into a grin beneath her.

“But talking’s _brilliant_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so, so much for reading, commenting, kudos....ing, honestly it really makes my day, i've really enjoyed writing this and you lot have made it so easy to finish. that's what she said.
> 
> also spoilers but Yaz saying "im with you whatever happens" to the doctor??? and now we have to wait til 2020 for more??? that ain't it pal

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing and couldn't stop and now this fic is four chapters long


End file.
